


Last Words

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I will RIP YOUR HEART OUT and then put it back in, M/M, Romance, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels Dean’s eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to meet his brother’s gaze. His mouth is cotton, his chest scraped raw. He draws back his sleeve and stares, breathing ragged, at the sharp black lettering along his forearm—the last words he’ll ever hear his soulmate say.</p><p>"And this is me lying down."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Words

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Tumblr post: http://consultingcas.tumblr.com/post/119945092227/sincereglomp-aceofultron-soulmate-au-where
> 
> Basically a soulmate AU where the LAST words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed on you, instead of the first words.

“And this is me… lying down.”

Sam’s heart stops.

He feels Dean’s eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to meet his brother’s gaze. His mouth is cotton, his chest scraped raw. He draws back his sleeve and stares, breathing ragged, at the sharp black lettering along his forearm—the last words he’ll ever hear his soulmate say.

_And this is me lying down._

“Did you… I mean, did you have any idea?”

Dean’s voice is rough and too loud in his ear. Sam looks up at him, opens and closes his mouth a few times before shaking his head. “No.”

And it’s true. He’d felt _something_ back at the college where they’d first met Gabriel, some tug and attraction, but most of that had dissolved somewhere in Broward County. _Most_ —the ugliest part is the _most_ , the fact that there is still a part of Sam that lights (lit) unbidden at the sight of the archangel.

Now he supposes he knows why.

“Sammy…”

He shakes his head again. “I _really_ don’t wanna talk about it, Dean.”

And so they don’t.

 

He wonders that night—did Gabriel _know_? How could he have done what he had if he’d known? Or perhaps that was exactly why he’d done it. To create distance between them, to push away the abomination with whom he’d been saddled. Sam smiles bitterly into his pillow and thinks that that must’ve been it.

Then he remembers the way Gabriel had looked at him in Crawford Hall. He remembers the almost desperate way Gabriel had tried to convince Sam to let Dean go, for his own good. And oh God, how could Sam ever forgive him for that? How could he have thought that was a good idea? Sam lets the old anger flood back and decides that it might be best to let it crystalize. This way it’s just one more gut-punch, one more instance of the universe shouting _fuck you, Sam Winchester_ , instead of a loss that feels like it’s eating at his heart.

Sam remembers the last words Gabriel ever heard _him_ say. “Are you okay?” Sam remembers that Gabriel answered him, even though he’d been speaking to Dean.

Sam wonders—did Gabriel know, and was that why he’d answered with “Not really”?

 

After Hell, there’s no room for anger. There’s no room for anything. His body is remade, and there’s nothing on his arm.

He gets his soul back, and there’s nothing still.

 

Time goes on, and things get easier.

Every now and again he’ll feel it—the weight of what he’s lost will hit him and he’ll want to crumple. He’ll see couples on the street, see the way Dean and Castiel are together, see something that reminds him of Gabriel, and he’ll feel hollow.

He convinces himself that the void on his arm means that he’s free of it now—he can love anyone. He can choose anyone. (He wonders whether, under different circumstances, he would’ve chosen Gabriel. He tries not to wonder that often.)

Amelia has writing on her wrist, and they weren’t her husband’s last words to her. For a moment, Sam lets himself believe that they could be his.

Just for a moment.

 

Gadreel is gone, and his body is his again. One month after he and Dean reunite, Sam staggers out of bed and gropes his way to the bathroom. Splashes water on his face, and as the grog recedes catches sight of a flash of black on his forearm.

He freezes. Slowly—as slowly as he dares—he turns his arm until he can read the new words.

_See you upstairs._

Sam sits on the bathroom floor and stares. He doesn’t have a name for what he’s feeling. It sits somewhere between relief and terror and an absolute, overwhelming sense of confusion. Why now? Why at all?

And dear God, _who_?

He asks Castiel, later, what it might mean. Which requires him to explain about the first words that sat there, about Gabriel and Crawford Hall and the hollow feeling. Castiel is quiet, and sympathetic, and entirely inscrutable when Sam reveals that his soulmate was an archangel.

“This has never happened before,” he says. “At least, not to my knowledge. I’d have to look into it.”

Dean comes to Sam the next night. At first, Sam doesn’t want to hear it. But then Dean takes off his shirt.

“Uh, dude, what?”

“Sam, look at this.”

Dean lifts his arm, and along the underside of his bicep is the word _Goodnight._ Sam’s mouth falls open.

“I’ve… never seen your words before,” he says quietly.

Dean nods. “You know why? Because up until I came back from Hell, _I didn’t have any_.”

Sam frowns. Dean ploughs on.

“I didn’t have any words, and you’d already memorized yours. I figured—hey, got no soulmate, no attachments. Great. Whatever.” He fixes Sam with a hard look. “But then I came back from Hell. New body. I took off my shirt and I saw this thing, but it didn’t say this. It said, _Hey, assbutt._ ” Dean laughs quietly. “It was so fucking ridiculous, I never showed you. Then the world was ending, and Cas…” He shakes his head. “You know what happened. Once I made it to Lisa’s, I checked my arm. It’d changed— _I can’t fight them, run._ That was when the Leviathans took him. Sam, my words?” He points at the letters under his arm. “They’ve changed _every single time_ Cas has died and come back.”

Sam feels something stir in his chest. “So… you don’t think I’ve suddenly got a new soulmate, you think…”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Sam nods. Smiles. “I knew Cas would tell you.”

Dean laughs. And for a moment, everything feels lighter.

 

The phone call comes a couple of weeks later. Gabriel is, in fact, alive, but he’s Metatron’s puppet.

Sam is packed and ready to go a half hour after Castiel hangs up.

 

Gabriel has been complaining since they got back to the bunker. He’s too weak to do much of anything, worn from weeks of captivity, the fading dregs of Metatron’s magic still clinging to his Grace. Sam hasn’t yet had a chance to be alone with him, but something about his presence is making Sam smile more than he’s used to. His expressions, his gestures, the patter of his speech… there’s a peculiar familiarity to it all, and it goes bone-deep.

Finally, _finally_ , Gabriel declares himself settled. He’s propped up in one of the bunker’s spare bedrooms, a pile of junk food and a Big Gulp at his side, and a laptop at the foot of the bed. He sends his rescuers away with an airy wave of his hand and the promise that he’ll shriek if he needs anything.

Dean and Castiel are already walking down the hall when Gabriel says Sam’s name.

Sam stops and turns. Gabriel smiles at him, slight and wan. “Come in and close the door.”

Sam does. He walks to the bed and sits on the only end without stuff on it. There’s silence, and then Gabriel speaks.

“Show me your arm.”

A moment and a rolled sleeve later, he nods. “And before?”

“You know what it said before.”

Gabriel meets his eye, and Sam swears he looks sad. “Yeah, I did.”

“How? Do you have…?”

“Heh, no. I just… I just _knew_ , when I saw you. It was kinda like being punched in the face. Or, to be more accurate, the Grace.” He tries for a grin, but it comes out broken. He sighs. “I couldn’t tell you. You were Lucifer’s vessel, I couldn’t handle losing—”

Sam is kissing him before he realizes what he’s doing. Gabriel is soft and warm and feels like home, and the kiss grows hungry. This is what he’s been chasing. This is it.

They break apart, and Gabriel looks like he’s been hit by a bus. Sam smiles. For the first time in a long time, his chest feels full.

“I’m not Lucifer’s anymore,” he says. “But according to my arm, you’re still mine.”

Gabriel grins, and this time it comes out whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to consultingcas for tagging that post so Sabrielifficly.
> 
> Also, I know the last thing Dean would've heard Cas say before his resurrection in Swan Song would have been "Um… no" and NOT "Hey, assbutt". I'm citing AU, and the idea of "Hey, assbutt" being tattooed on Dean's bicep for two years makes me laugh.


End file.
